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IC

Wildflower pointed to the Lifenet collar that Mason was holding.“See that?” she asked.“I modified it.”

“Modified, how?” Mason asked curiously as he gazed at the collar.

Wildflower pulled out a small silvery metallic cube out of one of her many pockets.“This little device has the capability of disrupting the transmittal signal of a collar,” she explained.Pocketing the cube again, she continued, “There is a catch though.A couple of things need to happen.”

From the moment Zane had glided into town on his bike, they’d been watching him, if it could be sold, bought or traded for Travelers were aware of it, so there was a pretty good chance at least some of the top Family people knew what he’d been up to, question was where’d they stand.

Well, I still never asked what date it is. Guess it doesn't matter- it's early fall. Heh, guess fall has a whole new meaning now. Autumn. Best time of the year.
We all met up at Beauville's on the weekend, as usual, and it was pretty relaxing. Had a lot longer talk with Sarah than I'd ever had before. Interesting that she had me pegged as someone involved with the law in some fashion. She seemed amused with my idea that she'd make a good spy. I still think she might. Met a few new people during the course of things...and hopefully, I'll remember names. Alicia, Xoth, Zane...and there may have been a few more folks wander in and out that I didn't get names for. My social circle is growing ever more expansive. What a butterfly.

((ok so I make a few assumptions about the facilities at the Clubhouse, figure we have cars, the graphics are there, and the water towers, not much of a stretch to figure we have hot water :P, also yea anyone who stayed at the Clubhouse on the second floor feel free to send me a PM if you "saw" Zane get up in the middle of the night.))

Slowly Zane stirred, his back felt stiff, idly he wondered if this was what rigor mortis felt like, of course he wasn't dead.. but was beginning to wonder if that wouldn't be a vast improvement. Rolling over into a position that wasn't too uncomfortable opened his eyes to look up at the spotted water stained ceiling in the clubhouse. After talking with Soyala and Nat for a bit Zane had wandered inside and found a bed to crash in, but after having slept most of the day, he couldn't stay asleep now, even with all the alcohol and painkillers in his system.

[ Note: The Explicit tag is used for a reason. If you have any problems with descriptive sex and/or violence this plot line is not for you. This space also provides that no such explicit scenes are seen on the front page. ]

Slots rolling on end of a day, nights falling down on creditbend as three shady figures walk along the street towards a bunker bar, one female on middle, two higher rankin wanderers around her, giggling could be heard in the deep of night, absurd groping of the females dark, shapely forms, everywhere, stopping only for the moment for them to climb down to the bar.

Reaching the lighted room, the female giggled to herself from the obscene thoughts and conversations they had.

((OOC)) the following is an addittion to the list of gods posted in Part 1. Again, this is a work of fiction and is not intended to offend as this is the world as seen through my character Hudson Saul, the cloned reincarnation of Saul Hudson aka Slash ((OOC))

Praise Soolerna, Good of Thunder, keeper of the hymns of legend and master of rythm. His hand is of the wood of Sivleh, cut from the very bark of the Tree of Eternity planted by Sivleh. Carved into sticks, his attention and focus is as steady as rcok. Throwing thunder as he sees fit, only his cotton shrowd may cover the eyes of Alice. Soolerna's Wrath is that of the end of all things without change but sound.

Zane stands slowly after tucking the note into the saddlebags of Vorela's bike, taking a quick glance around. No one noticed, good. He walks back to his own cycle, and climbs on starting the engine he glances back up at the entrance to Beau's.

"Sometimes shit just ain't fair." he mumbles to himself and pulls away, accelerating the bike quickly to top speed as he heads for the west road out of New Flagstaff.

((OOC)) Bellow is an entry by Hudson Saul, the reincarnate clone of Saul Hudson aka Slash the guitarist. Due to a slight issue with his last memory (as he signed up and his memories transferred on a drunken dare and his last payment cheque bounced and was thus left as his drunk), he was not brought back as a clone qutie right. Singer Hudson (as he prefers to be known) now hears in his heads the voices of the gods. Words rhymed and sang instead of spoken, accompanied by screaches and wailing of lyrical, unspoken prophecy, bathed in lights of all tounges and sensations, all clouded behind mists and fire and framed in gilded steel. He thus believes to be a prophet of the "Church of Steel" and currently its only member and preacher. As things come to him, he will write them down as sung and shouted by the gods and has recorded already a few of the gods whom have made a noteworthy appearance on the earthly stage of his mind.

He can hear the man scrambling through the rubbish in the alley, stumbling, falling in the puddles that dot the pock marked concrete. A thud, a splash, the clunky rustling of garbage bags coming across over the rain. Flickers of light from the traffic in the street beyond, the human rat is almost to the end of the alley, but in the dark he can't see what The Man already knows, then the sound of the rattling chain links; the fence that blocks the end of the alley. Twelve feet tall topped with razer wire and curved back toward the alley to prevent people from climbing over from this side.

By Saturday early afternoon, Mason had arrived at North Burb.He recalled the town fondly from his earlier travels.Among the various outposts and small towns across the southern part of the Plateau, he believed North and South Burb had the best chance of survival.Unlike most of the other communities that seemed to be focused on fighting and waging war, the Burbs attempted to foster growth and stability through community effort and farming.It was just how Mason felt about the two towns.

With the heavy blanket over the window, the only light in the room is cast from a dim sodium lamp hanging from a nail in the wall above the work desk. Zane leans back in his chair, a haze of cigarette smoke hangs lazily in the room, as he lights another off the last one before dropping the remains in an empty bottle.

Mason was out in the wilderness again, heading east towards North Burb.He had stayed low in Embry keeping an eye out for Drakken and his men.It was clear that Drakken would not strike him down in the open but even Embry had its dark corners and shadowy places.Staying on alert all the time wore him down.

Drakken smirked and said, “I had a bad feeling you wouldn’t accept that answer.You never do.”

“Never do?” Mason thought.There was no time to ponder upon that peculiar comment or its implications.Mason’s body tensed for action.He knew Drakken wouldn’t let him walk out of this warehouse free and clear.

Zane leans over the lathe, watching it spin down so he can examine the barrel for flaws, the light reflected off the smooth shiny surface reflects off his jet black eyes, he is so lost in thought he fails to notice Jared enter the workshop behind him. The older thinner man approches slowly, having startled Zane before, he is leary of repeating the mistake.

As the barrel stops spinning the distorted reflection of Jared catches Zane's attention, without turning around he says "Yes?"

Jared clears his throat,while he isn't afraid of Zane, like many of the normal people that survived, he is uncomfortable around a clone, more specifically someone who may be an alpha clone.

“You sent a trio of thugs to retrieve me,” Mason replied.“I don’t see much friendship there.”

Drakken sighed and nodded, “That was a mistake, I admit it.But I didn’t have any idea on your state of mind.I suppose it was a bad idea but again maybe it was?Who knows?If I approached you personally, I could have been the one with a machete in my skull.”

(( This is a scrap of information about the backstory of my char, John Rose. He has amnesia and is trying to find out who he is, you can get involved in the storyline. I will be posting bits and pieces of information with a small puzzle or riddle or something like that at the end, be the first to figure it out and send me a PM... You have permission to be the person to have officially come across the info in the game. If you decide to be the person to claim the right to be the one who finds out the information, please be involved in the story so it isnt wasted. Thanks for taking the time to read this ))

A man sits in his back yard, the sounds of a quiet suburban neighborhood on a lazy Saturday afternoon, a little girl no more than 10 plays on the emerald green grass a short distance away. He looks back toward the hows to see a blonde woman in a blue dress pause breifly at the open back door to smile at him. The man takes a long drink from his cold beer, savoring the smell of fresh cut grass, watching the girl play.

Suddenly the young girl gets up and runs over jumping into his lap, in her arms a small kitten, a baby bonnette on its head, the animal seems to take the abuse in good humor as it dangles from the little girl's arm.

"Play with me daddy," the little girl grins at the man, "Look at my kitty, isn't she pretty?"

The rented room in Pictus Ridge is dark, a thin silver of moonlight cuts passed the edge of the blanket over the window. Sitting on the floor Zane can be barely made out raising his hand and the glass in it to his mouth, his bike lies on its side on the floor. He takes a long drink draining the glass before filling it again and bringing it to his lips. A drop of dark liquid runs down from his forehead to drip off the end of his nose into the glass dissapating into the liquor.

Zane lets out a long heavy sigh.

He turns toward the window, the moonlight strikes his face, taking half of it out of shadow, one eye glints as the other is swollen shut, half his face looks dark and wet, he snears at the light, then takes another drink.

He walks up the stone path toward the house, flowers line the walk, up the steps then he stops. The door's broken, the lock and frame shattered by a forceful impact, the man starts, then moves with renewed haste as he begins to shout two names, the voice is distorted, unclear, but the panic is evident. Moving through the house he check the living room, a still steaming coffee cup sits on the oak end table, the television still on, the kitchen, supper cooking on the stove just starting to burn, he calls the names again, still nothing. Moving faster through the house he races up the stairs, first a young girls bedroom, its empty, the dresser in disarray as if someone packed in a hurry, the master bedroom he finds the same thing.

The heat in the room causes the air to waver, covered in a sheen of sweat, Zane manuvers the newly formed frame onto the work table, pulling up his welding goggles to examine his work. Eyes as black as the lenses of the goggles trace over each weld his thumb checking for burs or flaws in the steel.

"Not bad...could be lighter...a bit stronger..:" Zane mumbles to himself, no one to hear him anyway, no one else is up at this hour. He takes out a file, and begins to fuss over imperfections in the welds and joints of the frame.

"What was I thinkin'...who am I...nobody that's who...why did I even do that...?" he sighs heavily taking his frustration out on the metal with the file.